


enough for the both of us

by orphan_account



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up Fic? Make Up Fic?, M/M, More than Canon Typical Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-21 19:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In which Nursey and Dex break up, but love tends to linger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \---  
> 10/27/18 : Hello, if you're reading this and you remember when I disappeared the first time, I'm disappearing again, but this time I'm just orphaning the works instead of deleting, because even though I hate to see them and truly think they're just such embarrassing additions to the Internet, some of you like them, so. Anyway hopefully I come back again with another fic, I just hate everything right now! But thanks for all the support. Hopefully I'll see you all soon. 
> 
> \---
> 
> MAINLY INSPIRED BY ALL THE FRANK OCEAN SONGS THAT ARE ABOUT BEING SAD AND GAY AND NOT REALLY READY FOR LOVE. ESPECIALLY SIEGFRIED. This fic is also inspired by other sad millennial R&B that Nursey surely listens to (the Weeknd, Drake, Daniel Caesar, SZA, etc). 
> 
> Other things: 
> 
> 1) This is kind of soap-opera ish in terms of emotional extraness because I sat down with my self and I said self Nursey and Dex seem to really hate each other and that’s all good and great and fine but what if…well what if they kept that same energy…and it was love instead?  
> 2) It’s an AU in the sense that in this universe Dex gets the White Dude Education I need him to get in sophomore year, so we go into junior year a bit better.  
> 3) Dex and Nursey go through it but what you can trust about me is that I love my son and twin Derek as well as my dad and son-in-law William and they’ll always be alright in the end.  
> 4) UNRELATEDLY BUT I WOULD LIKE A NAME FOR MY FELLOW BLACK NURSEY STANS, WHAT Y’ALL THINK? #MALIKMOB OR #DEYHIVE? LMK IN THE COMMENTS.  
> 5) These characters and my life belong to Ngozi Ukazu.

It’s the middle of April and Dex is watching from the living room, sipping a lukewarm beer. The Haus is bustling and humming with the music and movements of the kegster, and Nursey is in the kitchen, talking to a boy.

The old reliable green-eyed monster rears its head, and Dex tries not to let it take control. All around him, people are chatting, dancing, drinking, playing beer pong, enjoying themselves. A barely formed, half-hearted thought emerges about the possibility of immersing himself into the party. It dissipates speedily enough, and his focus returns to where it wants to be.

Dex tracks the guy as he touches Nursey’s bicep, presumably asks about the tattoos, and leans in to hear Nursey speak. It’s evident even from this distance that he’s enthralled and captivated, the way people usually are. Dex has to get in the way.

He drains his beer faster than he probably should and moves to the kitchen under the pretense of needing another one. As he pushes past the throngs, he notes that Nursey is standing close to the keg; close enough to give him plausible deniability in case he gets caught for staring, or glaring, and eavesdropping. He arrives to the kitchen, makes quick eye contact with Nursey, and pours his beer as slowly as the keg will allow.

 

“Your tank top really makes your eyes pop,” the guy says to Nursey. Dex grinds his teeth together and pivots towards them before he’s thought about his next move.

 

His body language is profuse and Dex watches the guy in front of him notice his frame, take in his disposition, and reconsider wheeling Nursey. “Is this your boyfriend?”

 

“No,” he says reflexively, and it stings on the way out of his mouth. After its delivery, he realizes he needs a reason for appearing upon them the way he has. Luckily, he spots an excuse on the counter. “Just needed a shotglass.”

 

“Oh,” the guy says, plainly relieved as he grabs it and hands it over. “For sure, bro.”

 

Dex takes the shot glass and leaves the kitchen without so much as a parting glance and all of a sudden, everything is too raucous and turbulent. The Haus is suddenly nothing more than a chamber for the bad feelings to bounce around in, and Dex needs a break. He goes back up to their room, sets the shot glass down and sits at his desk. His hands come up to cover his face. Drunk, regretful, and the most self-loathing he’s ever been, Dex lets one slow, deep breath follow another.

 

“Shit,” he says to his laptop. “Fuck,” he says to the phone, taking it out of his pocket with the wild, unruly hope that it might somehow choose and type the right words for him to send. He taps them out and erases them over and over again, pulled into a tug of war between his thoughts and the backspace. Simple and direct is oftentimes the best way to go, so he goes in that way.

 

_I’m sorry about that._

 

The words stare back at him from the screen for a few minutes until he closes it out, realizing Nursey probably won’t text him back tonight. Nursey probably won’t even come back tonight, to his arms, or their bed, or even their room.

The party winds down eventually and the noisy hum of the Haus becomes a dusky, enveloping lull. Dex lies on his back. He doesn’t stare up at the ceiling for that long, but he stays awake long after he’s closed his eyes.

He falls asleep alone and wakes up the exact same way, save for a new message from Nursey.

 

**crashed in C’s room last night and we’re at Annie’s. we should be back soon. can we talk when I get back?**

 

_Sure._

 

The tension flows from his neck down his spine and Dex is sharply, acutely on edge. Minutes go by sluggishly and the lethargy nurtures his anxieties, but the time is also a gift in its own way. It allows him to form a game plan for their conversation so he takes feeble solace in the limbo.

He’s lost in thought when Nursey comes back, head jutting up at the sound of the turning doorknob. Nursey walks in with two cups in a cupholder, closes the door, and sets it down. They look at each other and Dex is flush with embarrassment as he remembers the ugliness of the night before.

 

Nursey crosses his arms and looks down. “I don’t know how to start this…I’m not sure what to say.”

 

“About last night,” Dex starts, to no avail.

 

“It’s bigger than that.”

 

Dex waits amid the silence that knifes between them and sits as a boulder. Nursey bites his lip and raises his eyes back up. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

 

The innermost bricks of Dex start to fall off one by one as Nursey continues. “I think…hiding is taking a toll on me.”

 

Dex nods as the ever-present fear begins to swell, praying the answer to his question will be no. “Do you want us to tell the team?”

 

Nursey shakes his head and glances towards the door. “It’s bigger than that, too.”

 

The horror dissipates from his chest and fills the space. “You want me to tell my family?”

 

“I want you to be okay with yourself,” Nursey returns, striking Dex at the heart of him. “And, I don’t think you are.”

 

He can’t argue against such a lucid and flagrant truth so he just nods, starting to understand that as it stands, there’s probably nothing he can say that could save them.

 

“I- I do want to be there for you and help you with that as a friend, but…I don’t think I can be more than that right now.”

 

Dex has a moment of empathetic clarity, realizing for the first time how difficult it must be to love someone who hates himself. “I get that.”

 

“I’m gonna stay with Chowder for a bit, just until we figure things out. I’ll let you know when I’m coming back to get clothes and stuff.”

 

Dex wants to act and move and fight but he doesn’t have the weapons, and he doesn’t have a strategy. “Okay,” he agrees, going against every pleading, miserable part of him. “Okay.”

 

“Okay,” Nursey says, before taking his coffee out of the cup holder and heading out the door.

 

\---

 

The next few days are pitiful, to say the least. He avoids Chowder and Bitty like the plague, keeping the few conversations he has with his teammates as light and ineffectual as possible. When he comes across Nursey, they greet each other curtly. Politely, but curtly.

News makes its way around the Haus that they’re not sharing a room anymore and Dex pretends not to notice why things get quieter when he walks into a room. He pretends not to know that they’re trying to figure out what happened, and whose side Chowder is taking, and which one of them is going to move out. The terrible mood he’s in only worsens every time he goes onto the student marketplace to look for a room because pickings are slim in April, and every ad seems to be for summer sublets.

It’s been five days since the end. The hockey season is over and Dex is ahead on his schoolwork, but he’s not quite in the mood to look any of his friends in the eye. So, even though it’s two p.m. on a Thursday, he reaches into the mini fridge and cracks a beer open, wanting a companion that can dull the thoughts.

As he opens his drawer, he knows he’s making a mistake but he can’t help but reach his hand in. He picks the photos up and flips through them, reminiscing through winter break, when they were out and about in New York City. He comes across the pictures they took on Valentine’s Day; each of them had told stories about having dates in Boston but they actually spent the day cloistered away in their room.

The revisiting is at a manageable level of sadness until he comes across the photo booth strip from the record store at the harbor. It’s an unexpected hit, crashing against him and mowing him down with spectacular force. The first two photos aren’t what does it; in the top one, they’re both fairly blank-faced, and in the second one Nursey is sticking his tongue out and throwing up a peace sign. Even the fourth one, a truly picture perfect moment where they’re both grinning at the camera, isn’t the one he can’t come back from. It’s the third.

The third photo is taken right as Nursey is trying to convince Dex to smile in the next one and Nursey is looking over at him with what can only be described as joyous, unabashed devotion. He stares at it as he drinks, letting it wound until his chest hurts too much and he can no longer bear it.

He drops the photo on his desk, reaches back into the box and starts a second beer just as someone knocks on the door.

 

“Hey Dex, it’s Bitty. Can I come in?”

 

“One second,” he answers, rushing to return the beer to the fridge. He puts the photos back in the drawer and stands up for a moment before deciding to sit back down. “Yeah, come in.”

 

“Hey,” Bitty says, walking in and sitting at Nursey’s chair.

 

“Hey.”

 

Dex brings a hand up to scratch his face and the room is so quiet, he can hear his watch tick. They look at each other and wait patiently for the other to speak.

 

“So,” Bitty starts.

 

“So,” Dex parrots, holding his hands in front of him on his lap.

 

Understanding that Dex isn’t going to be forthcoming with information, Bitty ventures forward, crossing his arms and casting a concerned eye. “Can I ask?”

 

He cracks his knuckles nervously out of habit, and readies himself. “Sure.”

 

Bitty looks straight at him, gaze unwavering. “What happened?”

 

Halfheartedly, he throws the excuse he’s prepared and used for other teammates who’ve asked. Dex is smart enough to know his chances of success with Bitty are low, but he might as well try. “Well, it was bound to happen with the way we clash and don’t get along, right?”

 

Bitty’s eyes are still warm, but sharper now. “That hasn’t been true in a long time.”

 

He runs a tough, coarse hand over his face and settles it under his chin as he considers his options. Ultimately, he doesn’t take that long because he knows he can trust Bitty. “If I tell you the truth, can you…please not say anything?”

 

Bitty leans forward. “Okay.”

 

“Me and Nursey were,” Dex starts, finding that he can’t finish the sentence. It’s guillotined as it leaves Dex’s mouth and each time he tries again, it meets the same fate.

 

“Me and Nursey, were. Nursey and I, were.”

 

Frustration arises and it’s expelled in a huff as Dex tries to figure out some other way to communicate, but Bitty understands. “I see.”

 

“Yeah,” Dex affirms. “But not anymore.”

 

Bitty looks at him and waits, eyes still searching. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

Despite being able to deliver even the simplest introduction to the story, Dex tries again to begin. The most he can do is stammer and at the resolution of his second failure to explain, he takes a moment to marvel at the depth and capacity of the closet he’s in. “I can’t.”

 

Bitty inclines forward again, reaching to put a hand on Dex’s knee before he speaks. “I understand.”

 

The weight on his chest is slightly relieved by the recognition and knowledge that he does.

 

“One of the counselors at the student health center is really good,” Bitty continues. “She really helped me first year.”

 

Dismay presses through each of Dex’s features. “You want me to see a shrink?”

 

“Now, don’t say it like that. I think it could help.”

 

He speaks above the loud, resounding chorus of ‘no’s’ in his head to offer an answer that’s more subdued. “I don’t know.”

 

“Making an appointment is really easy. You don’t even have to call, you can do it online.”

 

“I’m not going to do that.”

 

“Okay, what if I make you the appointment, and it works in your schedule? If I make the appointment, will you show up?”

 

Dex frowns, stubborn and unwilling, but diplomacy moves forward despite the chorus’ ongoing chants. “I have to think about it.”

 

“Okay,” Bitty settles. “Think about it.”

 

The quiet perches between them and Dex knows Bitty means well, but the pitied glance that falls upon him is almost unbearable. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dex looks down at his lap. “Thanks.”

 

“If you do want to talk, you know I’m here.”

 

He nods as he speaks, truthfully. “I know.”

 

Bitty pats his knee before he gets up and leaves Dex to his own devices. By the time Dex falls asleep that night, there’s no more beer in the mini fridge.

 

Friday afternoon rolls around and after lab, he stays on campus and goes to one of the coffee shops that don’t close until late at night. Chowder’s been looking for him but by the grace of God, he’s able to get back to his room unnoticed. When Chowder sends him a text asking where he is, he lies about finishing up a big project, and continues hiding out through the weekend.

On Sunday morning, he heads to the library. He decides to use some of his freed up time to start working on some kind of side project, an app that’ll look good when he’s applying for jobs next year. Once he gets a working skeleton, he decides to call it a day and go back to the Haus. When he walks back into the room, Nursey is there.

 

“Hey,” Nursey greets. “Sorry, I totally forgot to text you.”

 

“It’s okay,” Dex responds, delighted to see him. Regrettably, the luster of Nursey’s presence fades as he takes a look at the moving boxes on the ground.

 

“I, um. One of the guys in my creative writing seminar had a roommate who didn’t come back after spring break, so. I’m taking his spot. I should have all my stuff out by tomorrow.”

 

“You don’t,” Dex starts, wanting to plead for more time. “You don’t have to leave the Haus-”

 

“It’s chill,” Nursey cuts off, shaking his head and going back to packing. “It’s better this way.”

 

Even though he just got back, there’s no way he’ll be able to withstand watching Nursey move out of their room. Dex picks up a few books, they exchange dry, short goodbyes, and he goes back to campus.

 

When he returns to the Haus in the evening, more than half of Nursey’s stuff is gone, and Dex has a beer about it.

 

The next afternoon all of Nursey’s stuff is gone, and Dex has a couple more beers about it.

 

Or three, or four, or five.

 

He sips the sixth and languishes, looking around at Nursey’s now empty half of the room and remembering all the odds and ends of Nursey’s personality it used to hold; his favorite books, his hats, the record player his father gave him. All of them now gone without a trace, and Dex catalogs every inch of emptiness.

Almost accidentally, something on the ground catches his eye. When he bends down to get a closer look at the small piece of paper, he realizes it’s Nursey’s copy of the photos they’d taken in Boston, in that cheesy photo booth at the back of Nursey’s favorite record store. He guesses it fell out of Nursey’s belongings as he was moving out and stares at them longer than he should, but the self-pity now has dominion over him. 

When he reaches for another beer, he has a stark, bleak moment of realization that the twelve-pack he’d only bought the day before is about to be finished. Troubled, he picks up his phone and sends Bitty a message.

 

_I have the most time on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. For the session._

 

The reply is instantaneous.

 

**I need your student ID number to make it, and they’ll email you a confirmation with the time and date.**

 

He sends Bitty the number and half-throws his phone to the side before lying down and staring up at the ceiling. The beer has made the thoughts fuzzy, but the feelings run clearly. Introspective, he takes another look at the deserted half of the room.  

Dex's propensity for pessimism is a skilled and unyielding one that allows him to find and magnify even the tiniest flaws, drawbacks and limitations of life. The cynicism is usually able to convince Dex of its invincibility, but he starts to recall the times it was quelled. He starts to remember the times that Nursey dulled it with his embrace and instead made everything feel generous, and shimmering, and infinite. 

The ache is active; the memories bunch up and move together to chisel downward from the top of his ribcage and Dex has to fight the urge to impede, and avoid, and evade. With intention and purpose, he pushes the prideful stoicism to the side, and clears a path for the tears. 

 

\---

 

In the days that follow, he keeps avoiding Chowder partly because he knows Nursey is spending a lot of time with him lately, and partly because he barely wants to be a person anyway. At a certain point, Chowder has had enough. When he confronts Dex using his usual brand of bubbling optimism and caring earnestness, the truth is only skirted around. Dex knows that in order to avoid a deeper conversation he has to make a concession or two, so he agrees to Spring C.

It’s the pregame and Dex has found himself in an all too familiar predicament, but this time he doesn’t really have an excuse to stare. He mills around, making small talk and consciously avoiding whatever side of the room Nursey is on. He watches nonetheless. On his umpteenth glance, he admits to himself that Brianna could have been a model. Tall, lithe and athletic, she’s arguably the best player on the Samwell Women’s Volleyball Team. She stands in front of Nursey in a pink tank top that pops against her smooth mahogany skin and looks at him lovingly, with gorgeous brown eyes. 

He reminds himself that they’re just friends as she flips her long, black braids behind her shoulder. They’re good friends, he repeats to himself, as she giggles at something Nursey says.

Nursey pulls out his phone to show her something and Dex is unpleasantly surprised to see that his phone is working fine, confirming that the text he sent earlier this week was willfully disregarded. He nods and swallows it but it goes down hard and to make matters worse, he promised himself he’d do Spring C sober to counteract his recent excesses. As a result, the burn of regret smolders on without anything to dampen it. 

He goes to the bathroom due to necessity but dawdles to prolong the short escape from downstairs. After a long, wistful, mournful sigh, he turns the doorknob and walks back out.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices someone near the end of the hall, standing in the doorway of Chowder’s room. He turns towards them and walks over to say something, taking a few steps before stopping and realizing it’s Nursey. “Hey.”

 

Nursey takes a sip of his drink and gives him a quick, uninterested glance. “Hey.”

 

“Could we talk?”

 

He’s now accustomed to the crispness, but the coldness in Nursey’s demeanor unsettles him. “No.”

 

Dex furrows his eyebrows. “Are we not cool?”

 

“No,” Nursey repeats, pocketing his phone. “We’re not _fucking_ cool.”

 

Up until this moment, Dex had thought they were in some kind of tacit, neutral détente, so the newfound knowledge scrambles him. “Okay, wh-”

 

“Do you know how many phone numbers I got at Psi U last night?”

 

Jealousy pokes and stokes the flames of his temper, but he delivers the words coolly. “Probably a lot.”

 

“I couldn’t even tell you,” Nursey continues, with a detached shrug. “I barely even cared. I wasn’t even paying attention because I spent the whole night, fucking…wanting…”

 

Dex plays back all of the grinning and laughing and flirtation from downstairs as Nursey bites his lip and looks down at the ground. With splintering sadness, he remembers how convincing Nursey’s performances can be.

 

“Just leave me alone,” Nursey mumbles, pulling a small metal cylinder out of his pocket.

 

“Nursey,” Dex calls, not knowing what to say but wanting to acknowledge the shittiness, wanting to connect and wanting to admit to Nursey that he’s been going through the same thing.

 

That train of thought is swiftly derailed when two white tablets come out of the tube.

 

“What the hell is that,” Dex exclaims, horrified. “Are you taking pills now?”

 

“Yo, chill,” he says, before swallowing one down with his drink. “It’s Spring C. I’m allowed to enjoy myself.”

 

“And you’re mixing them with alcohol,” Dex fumes, shocked at the recklessness.

 

“Not sure how it’s any of your fucking business, anyway.”

 

“Well, I give a fuck about your health-”

 

“Well, you don’t have to. You don’t have to give a fuck about anything I do ‘cause you’re not my dad and you’re not my _fucking_ boyfriend,” Nursey finishes, before taking the other pill. “Right?”  

 

Dex stands still as Nursey pushes past him. Once he watches Nursey turn the corner and go back down the stairs, it occurs to him that the last remaining flickers of hope he had for enjoying himself have been completely snuffed out. Drained, he goes to his room and texts Chowder that he doesn’t feel well enough to go to Spring C.

The guilt and sadness and self-loathing swell into a storm that wipes out any energy going into Saturday night, so he wakes up on Sunday morning feeling like a corpse. He decides that he needs to get some fresh air because he’s been spending too much time in his room, so he gets dressed and goes to Annie’s. It’s fairly empty, surely because everyone else is sleeping in, hung-over and exhausted from the concert.

Out of habit, he picks up two editions of the Sunday New York Times and orders the macchiato. He realizes his mistake within moments, and the recollections of weekends past are pieces of sandpaper that scratch against him.

 

“Uh, just the drip coffee,” he corrects, setting the extra newspaper back down. “And, I’m only getting one of the Times.”

 

On the way back to the Haus, the endeavor to get his mind off Nursey continues to fail magnificently as he remembers all the times they got coffee and spent Sunday morning in bed, arguing about the op-eds. Once he’s back in his room, his mood is already soured by the memories so he decides to lean into the sadness and let himself be pitiful.

After finding it in his laundry, Dex had put Nursey’s old Andover sweater on his chair but despite the wash, it still smelled like him. Dex breathes it in as he puts it on, and the day he officially stole it returns to him.

 

“Got it,” Nursey had said with a smirk, as he climbed into Dex’s lap. “So, what you’re into right now is theft of personal property.”

 

“There’s no need to be dramatic,” Dex had retorted, hands instinctively coming up Nursey’s sides. “I’m just borrowing it.”

 

“You know what, I think it’s actually cute.”

 

“Not sure why,” Dex had taunted, leaning back in the chair and grinning despite himself. “The only reason I’m wearing your ridiculously expensive prep school sweater is because it’s comfortable and well-made.”

 

“Baby,” Nursey had cooed, running a thumb across Dex’s jaw. “You can be honest about the fact that you like wearing my sweater as a reminder that you belong to me.”

 

“You are…as deluded as you are narcissistic.”

 

Nursey had gently pressed against him as they laughed into the kiss, and Dex was so full of love he thought he could burst.

 

The past stands starkly against the cold void of his present, but Dex is too locked in to the torture to curb things now. He opens his phone, goes to Nursey’s Instagram page and sees the latest picture is a photo from Spring C. The caption reads, ‘yesterday was pretty chill’.

 

It’s a group picture but all Dex can see is Nursey and Brianna in a side hug, grinning and looking great.

 

A massive, hulking fury storms into him and the anger is so powerful he can barely understand it. Paranoid, he starts to wonder if Nursey posted the photo because he knew it would hurt. The wave crests as he looks at the rest of the smiling faces, upset all over again that he spent Spring C in his room, downright despondent while Nursey was having fun.

The next moment, he recalls the crestfallen misery of Nursey in the hallway and remembers they have a shared sorrow. He closes out the app and calms down, but he’s still envious that Nursey can party through it and pretend.

It becomes too much for him to handle, so he elects to distract himself. He logs into Netflix and scrolls but soon realizes he’s taking much longer to decide than usual, because bickering with Nursey about what they were going to watch always forced them to compromise and choose faster. He opens up a new tab and decides to watch a home repair show instead because there’s something about the laboring that soothes him, and he lets it do so well into the evening.

 

Monday flies by. After a frenzy of classes and schoolwork, he has trouble getting to sleep, so Dex is a zombie going into Tuesday. The reminder he’d set alerts him just in time because he’d forgotten about it, and almost left campus to go home for the day and pass out.

Upon walking in to the counseling section of the student health center, Dex notes that it’s sparsely furnished. A fake fern in the corner stands out against the peach-colored walls and after signing in with the receptionist, he takes a seat next to it. With time to sit and think about where he is, humiliation starts to grow alongside his anxiety. He picks up one of the magazines about student health and with a snort, he begins the paragraph about alcohol as an unhealthy coping mechanism. He’s halfway through the magazine when the receptionist calls him up.

The room is down the hall to the left and he knocks a couple of times. After being told to enter, he walks in and closes the door behind him.

 

“Please,” the counselor beckons, with a friendly smile. “Have a seat.”

 

He hangs his backpack up on a coat hook and obliges. Her thick-rimmed glasses are square and severe, but her face is kind. She ties up her long brown curls in a ponytail as she speaks. “Will, is that right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“How are you today?”

 

He crosses his legs and holds his knee as he juts his chin out, still anxious and unexpectedly defensive. “Alright.”

 

“So,” she says, leaning on her desk. “Why have you come to see me?”

 

Dex wonders why he even agreed to this if he can’t answer such a simple and direct question, but the entire truth is too long and revealing. “Uh,” he starts, scratching his face. “I guess it’s. I guess it’s kind of a tough time.”

 

She sits back in her chair, clicks her pen and scribbles something down on her notepad. “What’s happening?”

 

A sexual identity crisis, he thinks. Withdrawal from my best friends, binge drinking, the loss of the deepest and most fulfilling love I’ve ever known.

 

Luckily, he’s able to keep it simple. “There was a. There was a break-up.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she responds, sincere. “Break-ups are hard.”

 

He looks down at his hands, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at how silly and weak he is for needing a therapist to work through something that happens to people every day.

 

“Do you want to talk about the relationship?”

 

Without a word, he thoroughly and vigorously shakes his head. The counselor takes it in stride. “Okay, let’s start somewhere else. Where are you from?”

 

“Maine,” he answers, relieved to get an easy question.

 

“Hmm,” she hums, considering. “Tell me about it.”

 

Dex starts off by describing Brunswick, but soon enough he’s talking about his childhood and his family. The counselor is funny and easy to talk to, with the remarkable talent of being able to express sympathy without pity or condescension. She’s charming in a disarming way and at the end of the hour, Dex is shocked to find that he’s actually kind of, sort of comfortable.

 

“Well,” she announces, as he gets up. “Do you have anything else you want to share before we wrap up?”

 

“Um, uh,” he hems and haws, before blurting it out. “I think I’m gay.”

 

She blinks, and it’s the only movement she makes as he continues. “Actually, I’m. I’m definitely gay, and that’s…part of what’s going on.”

 

She crosses his arms and looks at him, eyes wide. “Boy, you sure know how to bury a lead, huh?”

 

A surprised laugh springs from his chest as puts his hand over his face, chuckling in disbelief that this is his life.

 

“Give me one second,” she says, seeming to remember something to look up. “I have a book I’d like for you to look at before we meet again,” she explains, typing and clicking around her computer. “It’s kind of intense at times, so read at your own risk. The school should have it in the library.”

 

“Okay,” Dex agrees, as she writes it down and gives him the sheet. “Thanks, Mrs. Miller.”

 

“Rachel, please.”

 

“Okay. Thank you, Rachel.”

 

“Thank you for coming, Will. I’ll see you next time.”

 

He nods, takes his backpack and leaves her office with a wave. The library does in fact have the book she recommends, so he checks it out and starts it that evening. Memoirs aren’t usually his thing and he prefers researched biographies, but he can’t deny that the writing is compelling.

The author grew up gay in Ashland, Kentucky, and it’s as bleak as Dex would have imagined. He goes into detail about his domineering, alcoholic father and his brother, the golden boy who played football and came back from Afghanistan to become the good Christian family man his parents always dreamed of. Some of the sections hit too close to home and press against Dex like a fresh cut and an old bruise, all at once somehow. 

When the author begins describing his muddled and conflicting feelings about himself, Dex’s emotions become more difficult. In a sense, he’s grateful to be given words that help him cultivate clarity about his situation, but he’s repulsed by what’s simply too real, too familiar, and too raw.

Halfway through the first paragraph about shame, he puts the book down. He takes a deep breath in an effort to postpone it but he can’t, and his hand clamps down around his mouth just in time to muffle the sob.

Eventually, he pulls it together. He slides a bookmark in and returns later on, page-by-page and day after day.

 

\---

 

The reminder pops up on Saturday afternoon and Dex stares at the screen for a long, suffocating moment. He’d set the alert back in March, but forgotten in the recent mess that it was this weekend. 

Bitterly, he’s reminded that the Samwell Humanities Festival (more specifically the Student Voices Showcase) is occurring today. Dex remembers the day Nursey found out he’d been picked to read. Students had to be recommended by a professor and chosen by a committee to represent the school, so being selected was a big deal.

Delighting in Nursey’s excitement, he’d made them cheesecake to celebrate and Nursey had lied in between kisses that it was even better than the ones in New York. They’d lain in bed together that evening and Dex had lazily run a hand through Nursey’s curls as he considered different pieces.

He tosses his phone to the side and comes back to the present.

With an eye on his watch, he stands up and starts to get dressed. He guesses that if he arrives late and stays in the back, he won’t be noticed and after waiting it out for a bit, he moves to leave. At the doorknob, he stops to listen to a small voice that’s somewhere far away, telling him to stay put. He ignores it, goes down the stairs and makes his way to campus.

When he arrives, it’s twenty minutes after it was scheduled to start, and he’s pleased that there’s a stack of programs near the door. On the pamphlet, he sees that one more student goes before Nursey. With serendipitous timing, he waits no more than five minutes before Nursey’s up. It’s a decently sized auditorium, so he’s glad Nursey has a microphone when he starts speaking.

 

“Hello everyone,” he announces, as he sits down on the stool in the middle of the stage. “My name is Derek. I’m one of the editors of the Samwell Literary Magazine and um, I play on the hockey team here as well.”

 

Nursey and Dex both chuckle as their teammates in the audience whoop and holler. “And, today I’ll be reading a short story and a poem. The story is titled ‘The Island’, and the poem is called ‘Blizzard’.”

 

The prose is familiar to Dex; it’s a great story about Nursey’s childhood in Manhattan, brimming with vivid detail and imagery, and Dex joins in heartily as the audience claps. What’s new to him is the poem. He pays attention to the rhythm because he knows Nursey cares about cadence but as the poem goes on, the words start to absorb his focus. 

It’s a poem about love’s ability to provide safety, security and warmth during a wretched winter, but grim and somber undertones develop. It becomes about sheltering and sequestering away for so long that the haven becomes a prison, and Dex, suddenly, is immobile. 

With a deep and jagged strictness in his chest, he realizes that the poem is about them, and he holds his breath as Nursey finishes.

 

“And the blizzard coming down shrouds every corner that we know, but we must now brace, and face the snow.” 

 

Dex is too affected to clap this time around and can only blink as Nursey nods, bashful. “Thank you.”

 

He watches as Nursey sits back down on the side of the auditorium and waits a few minutes before he leaves. From the program, he’s able to read that a brief intermission will be held shortly, so if he wants to head to the bathroom and leave unnoticed, he has to act.

 

After he dries his hands and leaves the bathroom, he shakes his head in disbelief at the sheer amount of luck he’s had. Naturally, halfway to the exit, it all runs out. “Dex?”

 

He turns around, completely and totally caught, as Nursey blinks at him in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

 

Accepting his fate, he takes a step closer to continue the conversation. “I’m just…doing the festival.”

 

Nursey cocks his head, clearly skeptical as he repeats. “You’re just doing the festival.”

 

Dex swallows hard and looks to the side. “You weren’t supposed to see me.”

 

“Well, I obviously have.”

 

“I’m on my way out.”

 

“Why did you come in the first place?”

 

He crosses his arms and admits the truth with a shrug. “I came for the showcase.”

 

Nursey mirrors him and crosses his arms with a huff, visibly agitated. “You can’t just- you can’t just show up to my stuff-”

 

“It’s an open event,” Dex defends, annoyed.

 

“Yo, deadass? What are you gonna hit me with next, ‘It’s a free country’?”

 

“You know what you’re right, Nurse. Why don’t you just send me a list of things I shouldn’t do and places I shouldn’t go to and I’ll follow it, okay? Why don’t you just _fucking_ email it to me?”

 

Nursey shakes his head and scoffs, angry and incredulous. “Maybe I should, asshole.”

 

He turns to leave, but the conversations they have lately are too few and far between for Dex to let it end this way. “Wait.”

 

Nursey stops and turns back to face him.

 

“I…I didn’t come to harass you, I just. Really wanted to hear the stuff, and I’m glad I did because it’s really good, and you’ve…really grown as a writer. The ideas were so fully realized and well-executed, and it was just…some really strong writing.”

 

Nursey’s jaw is still set, but Dex can see his eyes soften. “Thank you.”

 

“And, I- shit, I’m- I’m not trying to, like- stalk you-”

 

“It’s chill,” he offers, peaceably. “You’re not stalking me.”

 

“Alright, well anyway, I’ll. I’ll see you around, Nurse.”

 

Nursey gives him a brief nod. “See you around, Poindexter.”

 

Immediately after Nursey walks into the men’s room, Dex turns on his heel and leaves the auditorium. His reflection on their interaction is fraught; He’s disappointed by their current state, but he can’t help but be a bit heartened by the somewhat positive turn their talk took at the end. The ambivalence rolls back and forth in a messy tug of war the entire walk back to the Haus, only put to an end by the three brightly colored boxes that are stacked on the kitchen table.

Without needing a second glance, he knows who they’re from and who they’re for. Sure enough, there’s one box addressed to William Poindexter, one box addressed to Christopher Chow, and one box addressed to ‘Marshmalik’ Nurse.

He chuckles a bit as he picks his up and makes a mental note to send Nursey’s father a thank-you email. Dex wouldn’t have expected a high-ranking executive of a multinational record label to be so goofy and eccentric, but Arthur Nurse was exactly that. When he gets to his room, he finds that the box is full of Japanese snacks, surely from a recent visit to Tokyo.

There’s quite a bit of candy and he burrows through it at his desk as he takes a look at his calendar. Finals start in a couple of weeks, so he makes a preliminary study schedule to stay on top of everything. He does some work until the evening, periodically shaking his head at himself because of how pathetic his Saturday night is. 

With enough work done for the day, he lets himself sit back in his chair and pick the introspection back up. Talking to Nursey and seeing him up close only agitated his yearning, and despite his attempts to distract himself on his laptop, Dex can’t stop thinking about how handsome Nursey was this afternoon.

He sits at his desk, longs for the past, and reaches for a beer.

Despite telling himself he’d cut it out, he pops it open and tugs at the drawer with near irreverence. Sip after sip, he flips through the photos once more, but remembers that the real heavy hitter is what’s underneath the stack. He reaches for it. 

The book of love poems Nursey gave him on Valentine’s Day is now in his grasp once again, and by now he knows that he’s deeply, staunchly settled into the danger zone. Nevertheless, he opens it up and reads the commentary Nursey had written next to his favorite lines.

 

 ** _And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world._**  ->  _not to get too gay but on the low I wrote this abt u_

 

 ** _With you I become again the earth that you are: you are deep spring in me: in you I know again how I am born._**  ->  _oh #mood?_

 

 ** _Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy boy who loves you._**  -> _yo with this last part Pablo instead of subbing you could just @ me next time_

 

Dex laughs despite himself as he goes through the Neruda poems, but sadness creeps alongside him as he drinks. At first, he’s able to take comfort in the relic from when he was loved and cared for, but the longer he holds it, the more it hurts. 

After the seventh beer is finished, he grabs his phone and goes to lie down. A foolish and treacherous thought comes to him, but he reasons that it’ll be a quick phone call. He explains to himself that it’ll just be like it was today, and there’s no harm in a little chat.

The phone rings until it goes to voicemail and his sloppy, drunken mouth jumps into action.

 

“Hey, I’m…I’m just calling…I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess. You were awesome today, and I was…I was really proud of you. You looked really good, too…You looked…really fucking good…Anyway, I’m- I probably shouldn’t have…Sorry.”

 

With blurred vision and limited faculties, he hangs up, plunks his phone down on the nightstand and passes out. 

A sharp knock at the door wakes him. He notices it’s still dark and speculates that he got a couple hours of sleep. As he stands up, he realizes he’s still drunk, but on the tipsier side of things. The knock happens again as he’s getting himself together, still sluggish and blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

When he opens the door, Nursey is standing in front of him, visibly and incontestably irate.

Dex steps to the side as Nursey storms in and starts without wasting a moment. “What the _fuck_ was that voicemail?”

 

As he closes the door behind him, he can only recall parts of what he said, but it’s enough. “Fuck.”

 

“That’s not fair,” Nursey argues, despairing. “We’re not together. That’s not fair.”

 

“You’re right,” Dex concedes. “That was shitty.”

 

On some level, he’s remorseful. Still, most of what he’s currently feeling is wanton, lawless exhilaration at the fact that Nursey is standing in front of him in their room again. “I _am_ sorry,” he admits, but he’s drunk enough to tell the entire truth. “I just… _really_ fucking miss you.”

 

Nursey clenches his jaw and lets out a breath through furious, flared nostrils. “Don’t,” he commands, as his hard-set lip starts to quiver. “Don’t,” he repeats, as his face crumples and the first tears fall.

 

Dex steps closer, bringing his hands up to hold him. “Oh, Nursey.”

 

Nursey’s the most distressed Dex has ever seen him as he bites his lip, shakes his head and looks to the side. “I still love you,” Nursey croaks, “And it’s fucked up because…we never told anyone so it’s like...It’s like we never happened.”

 

“We _did_ ,” Dex corrects, urgent and fierce. “We _did_ happen.”

 

Nursey looks at him and Dex brings a hand up, moving his thumb across Nursey’s cheek to wipe away the tears.

 

“I love you, too,” he admits, and it’s painful but cathartic. “I still love you, Nursey.”

 

They stare at each other as Dex finishes wiping the wetness from his face, and Nursey’s breath stops hitching. Dex holds the slightest bit tighter, and they meet in the middle. 

He’s missed Nursey kiss so badly he feels like his own tears might drop, and Dex is alight in a golden, glowing blaze. His hands move up under Nursey’s shirt and he’s crazed, near lunacy with how badly he _wants._  

They’re getting carried away farther and farther into the uncharted, and Dex’s prudence slows them down as he notes the alcohol on Nursey’s tongue. “You’re drunk.”

 

“I’m not too drunk,” Nursey fires back, before kissing down his neck.

 

“Wait,” he interrupts, as he remembers Spring C. “What about Brianna?”

 

Nursey is plainly lost. “What _about_ Brianna?”

 

“Aren’t you two…like, a thing?”

 

“No,” Nursey answers, perplexed. “Brianna has a _girlfriend_. She’s just studying abroad in Barcelona this semester.”

 

“Oh,” Dex says, realizing the lengths of the logical leaps he made off microscopic evidence. “And…you’re not…seeing anyone else?”

 

“Nope,” Nursey responds, eyes laser focused on Dex. “Still yours.”

 

The admission pulls Dex back into him, and Nursey’s hands go up under his shirt as he kisses down Dex’s jaw. Dex can barely breathe. Dex can barely speak.

 

“Derek,” he exhales, trying one last time for good judgment. “This is a bad idea.”

 

Nursey stops immediately, removes his hands and takes a step back. His eyes are seeking the right answer, searching Dex to see if he misread the situation. “Do you want me to leave?”

 

Reason and sense put forth a valiant effort that deserves honorable mention, but they go out the window all the same. “No.”

 

Dex moves forward and kisses him, thinking back to one of the Pablo Neruda poems. As he takes Nursey’s shirt off, he recalls one of the highlighted lines.

 

**_With your mouth on my mouth, our bodies tied to the love that consumes us._ **

 

And there they were indeed: caught in caresses, bound by the passion, tied to the love. There was Dex’s body lying as an instrument and there was Nursey tuning him with his touch, playing him with his kiss.

It’s all so easy, he thinks to himself, as they fall back into an old rhythm. Dex has never been so weak as he clutches Nursey, and has never loved helplessness so much. He’s overwhelmed, only able to whimper as he trembles in Nursey’s grasp.

As they say, old habits die hard. His mouth runs the way it used to as Nursey touches him, and the ‘I love you’s’ freely flow forward. The worst and most wonderful part of it all is that Derek returns each one as a whisper into his neck, with a kiss to his collarbone.

When everything is said and done, he falls asleep spooned around Nursey, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck before fully dozing off. 

 

In the morning, Dex wakes up alone.

 

Looking around the room, he realizes that Nursey is gone and wonders for a rabid, fleeting moment if it was all just an insane fever dream. His phone is on the nightstand and he reaches over to pick it up, seeing that he has a new message.

 

**last night shouldn’t have happened because things aren’t really fixed. please don’t call me again.**

 

With a deep sigh, Dex rubs his eyes, deletes Nursey’s number, and gets out of bed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY EYES DON’T SHED TEARS BUT BOY THEY POUR WHEN I’M THINKIN’ BOUT YOU, OH NO NO NO, I BEEN THINKIN’ BOUT YOU, YOU KNOW KNOW KNOW, I BEEN THINKIN’ BOUT YOU, DO YOU THINK ABOUT ME STILL…….
> 
> Next update on Sunday if it’s Allah’s will. As usual love the comments, love the kudos, love the bookmark notes, love you all. 
> 
> p.s. @dabsmom if you're reading this I want the angst in this fic to kill you, so. let's see


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my mention of sad millennial R&B can't believe I forgot the gawd Bryson Tiller and his life-changing song Exchange 'cause THIS WHAT HAPPEN WHEN I THINK BOUT YOU....I GET IN MY FEELINGS YEAH, I START REMINISCING YEAH, NEXT TIME AROUND FUCK I WANT IT TO BE DIFFERENT YEAH, WAITIN ON A SIGN, GUESS IT'S TIME FOR A DIFFERENT PRAYER.....anyway let's continue

With dogged stringency, Will resolves to spend the rest of the school year busy, sober, and away from Derek. More importantly, he decides to step outside of himself and tend to the friendships he’s been letting fall by the wayside. The weekend after the hookup, Dex has a strongly needed and long overdue Chowder Appreciation Day; they gorge themselves on pizza as they marathon Lord of the Rings, and it’s exactly what the doctor ordered.

Graduation and finals are on the horizon, and he does a bit of work every day to prepare for both. Bitty is needed and wanted everywhere at once but he manages to spend some quality time with him, and it’s rewarding to see him so excited about the future. Interactions with Nursey remain…short.

 

When he finishes the memoir, he checks out another queer autobiography and a remarkable, albeit slow change starts to occur. The closet he’s in starts to feel less like a trap and a cage and a prison; it becomes a waiting room of sorts, or some other kind of liminal, intermediate space he knows he won’t be in forever.

In the second session with Rachel, he shocks himself with how much he reveals as the hang-ups and compulsions he has about masculinity move around within him, and then outward. It’s choppy and incremental but the progress trudges on, and life chugs along too. 

 

He goes through his days with relative peace and according to plan until a Tuesday evening in the middle of May, when a text from Chowder to the group chat knocks him off-center.

 

**Nursey’s in the hospital for appendicitis and he’s having surgery tonight. I’ll let you guys know the room number when I find out.**

His phone dings with their friends’ responses as he sets it down, aghast. At the mention of surgery, Dex’s mind submerges itself in all the horrifying worst-case scenarios it can muster. Even though rational thought takes the reins and reminds him that the likelihood of Nursey dying on the operating table is negligible, the unease clings.

More than anything, Dex just wants to see him, but the situation they’re currently in is complicated. He picks the phone up and sets it down a few dozen times before selecting to leave it alone for good, realizing nothing can be done or decided upon while Nursey is in surgery anyway. His home improvement shows ease him to a certain degree, but he barely gets any sleep that night.

 

Chowder sends an update in the morning and Dex is pleased to read that Nursey got out of the surgery safe and sound. He stares at the room number, considering. With cutting recollection, he reminds himself that Nursey asked him not to get in contact, so he folds those thoughts up and puts them away for as long as he can.

Wednesday is busy. His classes and the tutoring sessions he gives are back to back with no breaks, and when he finally gets a moment to look at his watch, it’s already half past five. Now that the day’s activities are done, the vexing feelings that have been churning in the back of his mind come to the forefront. Dex thinks it, overthinks it, and then types out the most neutral message he can muster.

 

_Did you see Nursey today?_

 

Chowder responds instantly.

 

**Yeah, Bitty and I are here but we’re leaving soon. The medicine they have him on makes him really groggy and he’s been in and out of sleep, so we’re letting him get some rest.**

_Is he awake now?_

**Yeah!**

He holds back for a moment, but decides to jump while he has the nerve.

 

_Could you ask him if he would mind a visit from me?_

Tense, he tightens the grip on his phone as he waits for the answer.

 

**He said he wouldn’t mind at all!**

Certain the original message has been modified by Chowder’s ubiquitous enthusiasm, he translates that to mean Nursey said he didn’t mind in a more ‘chill’ and dispassionate way. At this point, he’ll take what he can get. 

After returning to the Haus, he takes a shower and changes quickly. He’s ready to go by six-thirty, but he’s kept in his room by a fear that’s difficult to elude and impossible to pin down. Despite Chowder’s message, he’s still anxious about Nursey not wanting to see him and he paces around, looking for the guts to go. It’s nearly eight o’ clock when he finally finds them.

The hospital is a bit of a walk, but he needs the movement for his built-up anxious energy anyway. At twenty minutes past the hour, he walks into Nursey’s room just as Whiskey, Tango and Foxtrot are leaving. Nursey is sleeping, so they greet each other quietly.

Dex stands a few feet away from the bed and as he watches Nursey’s soft, peaceful breaths, he finds himself suddenly overwhelmed. Knowing Nursey’s fine seems to be an entirely different animal from seeing him with his own two eyes, secure and stable and healthy again. Relieved, he lets himself stare for a bit longer until he starts to feel like a creep, and goes back out to talk to the nurse that guided him towards the room.

He’s curious, so she helpfully describes the appendectomy to him, and they talk for a stretch before she gets back to her work. When he walks back into the room, Nursey’s phone is lighting up on the nightstand, so Dex takes it and goes back out into the hallway.

Nursey’s mother has called twice, and he picks up when she calls again.

 

“Hey Mrs. Nurse,” he answers. “It’s Will.”

 

“Hello Will,” she greets, pleasantly. “How are you?”

 

“I’m alright, thanks. I picked up the phone because Derek is sleeping.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“I just spoke to the nurse and she says all his signs are good and that he should be fine.”  

“Oh, I’m so glad to hear that. Christopher told me something similar earlier, and that he didn’t think it’d be necessary for me to fly out from Los Angeles.”

 

“I agree with that,” Dex confirms, assured by what he heard from the nurse. “He’s going home tomorrow and she said this type of surgery has very little recovery time.”

 

“That’s great, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to be back at the house with everyone.”

 

The mention of the Haus reminds him of the reality of their situation, and he realizes Nursey hasn’t told his mom anything. “Yeah.”

 

“I’m so happy he has a friend like you there with him,” Angela continues, unknowingly twisting the knife. “Thank you so much, Will.”

 

“Really,” he answers, miserable. “There’s no need to thank me.”

 

“When Derek wakes up, could you tell him to give me a call and to try to get in touch with his father? He’s in London, worried sick.”

 

“I will and speaking of which, I meant to email him, but if you could tell Mr. Nurse I got the care package and I really appreciated it.”

 

“Oh, good, I’ll tell him. I’m sure he sent you a bunch of that candy.”

 

“He did, and it was delicious.”

 

“I keep telling him we’re at an age where we need to watch our sugar but of course it goes in one ear and out the other,” she continues, and Dex chuckles. “Well, I won’t keep you, but I just want to say thank you again. It really brings me peace of mind to know you’re there with him.”

 

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Nurse.”

 

“Goodnight, Will.”

 

“Goodnight,” he bids, ending the call.  

 

As he goes back down the hall to the room, he notes how hushed everything is, like the hospital itself is asleep, too. The silence follows him into the room where somehow, it’s even quieter than it is outside. For the first time, he notes that there’s a large and surprisingly comfortable-looking chair next to Nursey’s bed. The moment he sits down, the exhaustion from a day full of moving and studying and worrying hits him all at once, and he dozes off in a matter of minutes.

When he wakes up, Nursey salutes him with a tired half-grin. “Hey, Poindexter.”

 

Dex sits up, newly alert. “Hey, Nurse. How’s it going?”

 

Despite just having had surgery, he delivers a shrug in his usual noncommittal and blasé manner. “Good. Just chillin’, man.”

 

For a solid twenty seconds, they do nothing but blink at each other, and Dex deduces that Nursey doesn’t know how to proceed either. Hopeful, he guesses that the tension that’s existed between them can be put on hold by the current circumstances, but the quiet that rests is still tenuous. If there’s any potential for a conversation, one of them needs to stretch out to grab it and make it happen. Nursey reaches first. “So, what’s- what’s been going on?”

 

“Nothing,” Dex rushes, nervously. “You know, just. Same stuff as usual.”

 

“Right,” Nursey nods. “For sure.”

 

Time marches by, second after silent second. Nursey tries again. “Well, what’s up with the playoffs?”

 

“Game three of the Western Conference was yesterday,” Dex answers, pleased to have a neutral topic to discuss. “The Mighty Ducks might pull off a miracle but it’s probably gonna end up being Falcs-Hawks.”

 

“Quite the match-up. Jack must be going through it right now.”

 

Dex shakes his head. “I can’t imagine that kind of pressure.”

 

“I think they’re gonna win it again. They’re really good.”

 

“Best in the league,” Dex corrects.

 

“True.”

 

A few more beats go by, and Dex can respect that it’s his turn to put forth the effort. “The Cavaliers are playing well, too,” he offers. “They might even take it this year.”

 

“Bro, they won’t. The only thing that could stop Golden State is an injury, and even then.”

 

“Unfortunately, you’re right.”

 

Nursey lets out a long, forlorn sigh. “I don’t want to be a hater but I feel like they got really good out of nowhere and I just…wonder when my Knicks are gonna rise up like that.”

 

“Derek, you know New York basketball is cursed forever.”

 

“Well if you speak the evil out into existence like that then word up, I guess it will be,” Nursey says, and Dex laughs. “Then yeah, I guess you right.”

 

Something incredible happens as they look at each other and exchange smiles. All of a sudden, the energy in the room shifts and they’re just two friends again, catching up and shooting the shit.

 

“What else you been watching lately,” Nursey asks. “What’s poppin’ on HGTV?” 

 

Dex knows the question itself is a chirp, so he sidesteps it. “I wouldn’t know.” 

 

Nursey grins as his eyebrows shoot up, and Dex is already laughing despite himself. “Oh, word? Oh… _word_?  _You_  wouldn’t know what’s happening? On the Home and Garden Television Channel?  _You_? Wouldn’t know?”

 

Dex crosses his arms as he leans back in the chair. “As you know, Flip or Flop has always been a bit too flashy for me, especially Las Vegas, but Flip or Flop: Fort Worth is the newest one and I like it a lot more.”

 

“Thank you for the truth,” Nursey proclaims, as Dex chuckles again. “Thank you.” 

 

Nursey suddenly looks around the room out the window, searching. As he asks the question, Dex remembers he’s been in and out of sleep all day. “What time is it?”

 

“Ten forty-five,” Dex answers, as he checks his watch. “Shit, I’m staying over visitor’s hours.”

 

“I talked Emily into pushing it to eleven while you were sleeping, so you’re good.”

 

“Of course,” Dex says, shaking his head as he realizes Nursey must have the entire nursing staff half in love with him. “Of  _course_.”

 

“You already know what it is, Poindexter,” Nursey delivers, as Dex rolls his eyes. “It’s why they call me the finesse kid.”

 

Dex leans forward and props his chin up. “In your entire life, there has never been a single person who has ever called you that.”

 

“You don’t know, at Andover-”

 

“No I  _do_  know, not even at Andover,” Dex cuts off, as Nursey laughs, holding his stomach. “I  _do_ know, that you’re full of shit.”

 

As Nursey’s phone buzzes in Dex’s pocket, he remembers the earlier conversation he had. When he gets up to hand it to him, he relays what Nursey’s missed. “Your mom called and she wants you to call her back.”

 

“Got it,” Nursey affirms, looking through his messages. “How is Mumsie?”

 

“She sounds good. She’s in LA.”

 

“Mm, they must have started shooting.”

 

At the mention of Nursey’s family, Dex remembers he hasn’t heard about Nursey’s sister in a while. “How’s Vanessa, by the way?”

 

“She’s good. She told me the other day she’s moving to Denver.”

 

“I’m kind of surprised she doesn’t  _already_ live in Colorado.”

 

“Right! Van was legit made for all the hiking outdoorsy shit they have out there.”

 

“Oh, also,” he blurts, before he forgets. “You should send your dad a message. He’s in London.”

 

“Oh, so he  _did_ go after all. That’s good, you know how much he loves the U.K.”

 

The detail comes back to him from one of those nights they stayed awake, wrapped up in each other, talking about everything until the sun came up. “Yeah. I do.”

 

As their eyes meet again, Dex can tell Nursey’s remembering the same moment. Suddenly uncomfortable, he changes the subject. “Do you know when you’re getting out tomorrow?”

 

“In the afternoon.”

 

“How are you getting back?”

 

“The hospital has a shuttle.”

 

“You know, I was talking to Emily and she said the next few days might be a little painful, and you might be uncomfortable getting around your apartment,” Dex explains, readying himself for the leap. “So, if you need help, or…if you need something and none of your roommates are there, I want you to call me. Okay?”

 

With a terrible, unbearable softness in his eyes, Nursey nods. “Okay.”

 

“Alright,” he says, looking back down at his watch. “Well. I’m gonna head out then.”

 

“Thanks for visiting,” Nursey near-whispers, and Dex doesn’t know how much strength he has left.

 

He endeavors to guess how long it’s been since the last time and unreasonably, he feels like it’s been a century. Dex feels like it’s been a hundred years since he’s been able to get lost and be found again in the lush, green groves of Nursey’s eyes. Against his better judgment, he brings his hand forward to touch Nursey’s face and within him, what has been starving for water and light rouses, and blossoms once more. Nursey briefly closes his eyes as he leans into Dex’s palm exactly the way he used to, and Dex takes respite in the gesture.

 

“Of course.”

 

They continue to look at each other and a steadfast compulsion to kiss and confess climbs and gains height within Dex. He yanks it down, forcefully and resolutely, determined to respect the boundaries that still exist and disinclined to do anything that could puncture their faint, feeble minute of tenderness.    

 

He blinks twice, memorizes the moment, and pulls his hand back. “Goodnight, Nurse.”

 

Nursey sets his jaw and looks down at his hands. “Goodnight, Poindexter.”

 

After one last lingering glance, he leaves the room, walks out of the hospital, and catches a shuttle back to the Haus. Over the next few days, Nursey keeps them updated in the group chat and he’s feeling fine again by the weekend. Dex types out message after message asking if Nursey’s torso is sore and if Nursey’s sleeping enough and if Nursey’s drinking enough water. He doesn’t send a single one.

 

\---

 

Deeply tired of how familiar his current situation is, he looks around with a sigh. Once again, he’s in a room across from Nursey, trying and failing to keep his eyes off him. Luckily for him, this time around, he has plenty of work to do. They’re all setting up for the graduation party at the Haus and parents are set to arrive within the hour. 

The Haus is still messy by normal civilized human standards, but it’s been cleaned in broad swaths; detailing is the most important for now. Dex circles the living room, keeping an eye out for any stray bottles or weed paraphernalia that might have gone unnoticed.

He steals one last glance at Nursey as he picks a sweater up off the couch, and keeps his eyes to himself until the party starts.

Bitty is the star of the show, and Dex is happy to see him be able to celebrate with Jack after the tumultuous year they’ve had. He flits through the party and chatters on about the new city and new apartment and new life with Jack, and Dex watches them with a difficult mix of happiness and envy. As they circle each other in their own rose-colored universe, Dex has a flash of another world where he and Nursey are able to be like that, too. The jealousy and resentment rise but he tucks them away, and returns to the present moment.

As the graduation celebration continues, Dex mingles; he chats with his teammates’ families, asks about home renovations, gives his technology opinions. Considering his usual aversion towards small talk, it all goes swimmingly well.   

Bitty stays until well after the festivities have petered out and at the end of the evening, Dex bids one of his best friends goodbye. With bittersweet ambivalence, he watches Bitty drive off to start a new and exciting chapter with his fiancé.

As he walks around the room, picking up empty plates and cups, he thinks to himself how nice it’d be to be tipsy. Still, he’s glad he stayed disciplined. Proud, in a sad way. 

Immediately and with little warning, Nursey is right next to him. Dex trains his eyes toward the ground, hoping that Nursey’s just walking by Dex on his way to doing something else. Unluckily, he’s incorrect. “Hey, Poindexter.”

 

Dex looks up and swallows hard. “Hey, Nurse.”

 

“Um,” Nursey starts, hesitant. “Would you…mind if I took a look in the room? You can say no if it’s weird, it’s just…I think I lost something and I wanted to see if I left it here.”

 

“Sure,” Dex agrees, amiably.

 

Placing the garbage bag to the side, he turns and leads the way back up to what used to be their room. Once they’re alone, together, Dex puts herculean effort forth to keep both his breathing and his yearning measured and calm.

 

Nursey glances around his old desk, underneath his old bed, and on the floor near the door. “You probably didn’t, but by any chance did you happen to see those pictures we took in that photo booth? I don’t know if you remember that day in Boston…”

 

“Yeah,” Dex breathes, overwhelmed. “Yeah, I do, and I have them. It must have slipped out while you were moving.”

 

He gets himself together as he goes to find the book, stirred and flustered by the fact that Nursey’s been looking for their photos. A tranquil, terrifying hope looms on the horizon.

 

“’Swawes,” Nursey says, once Dex hands him the strip. “Thanks.”

 

“No problem.”

 

Now that the task has been completed, a silence naturally follows and a move should plainly be made. Nevertheless, they both dawdle. Dex and Nursey lock eyes for a long, quiet moment, until Nursey takes a step.

 

“You know, Poindexter…I…I meant what I said when I told you I want to help you with this, and…I want you to reach out, like if you just...need someone to listen, while you’re…while you’re figuring out, like. While you’re on your…Okay, deadass, I’m not trying to sound like Oprah right now but the only phrase I can think of is ‘your path to self-acceptance’.”

 

With an amused grin, Dex nods in Nursey’s direction. “I understand. Thank you.”

 

“For sure.”

 

The hope spreads forward and nudges Dex, encouraging. “And, I was wondering if…like, I could. Hear from you from time to time. I just mean, if we talk, I don’t want it to just be about me and…what I’m going through, I guess. Like, I want to hear about your summer, and…what you’re getting up to in New York. If you don’t mind.”

 

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds good.”  

 

“Cool,” Dex responds, casually over the moon.

 

“Chill.”

 

“Well,” he starts, opening his arm up for a bro handshake. “Safe travels, Nurse.”

 

It ends up a half hug and Nursey pats his back. “Safe travels, man.”

 

Lingering, Nursey gives him one last look, and Dex holds his breath. After double-checking to make sure the photos are still in his pocket, Nursey walks out of the room.

 

Dex closes his eyes, puts his hands over his face, and exhales.

 

\---

 

June crawls by at a painful pace. The differences between Brunswick and Samwell are glaring and being back at home after all the months at the Haus is tough, to say the least. Having to face the fact that he’s outgrown where he came from is unsettling; words and ideas he’d once been accustomed to are now unfamiliar, and some of his oldest, most foundational memories now seemed alien.

Since his uncle doesn’t need him quite as much on the boat this year, he spends more time working at the bait and tackle shop. It’s been overrun with tourists and despite how irksome they are, he supposes it’s good for business. A great many of them, misguided by DIY and given inflated faith in their abilities by YouTube, need boat repairs after doing things incorrectly and making a mess. Dex is frequently hired to fix their mistakes, and the extra money is nice.

Even though they’d never been particularly close, he starts sharing more with his mom, as a test run of sorts. She’s thrilled that he’s opening up to her, and it’s better than he thought it’d be. As he starts to show his mom more of who he is, he realizes how much work he’s put in to pack away and cover up the freer, happier version of himself that’s been developing at school. It’s nice to start doing a little less of it.  

 

As usual, his conversations with his father broach a numerous and enthralling variety of topics: the fishing and the store, the store and the fishing, the fishing, the store, the store and quite unexpectedly, the fishing. Despite the secrets he’s keeping at bay, it’s somewhat of a relief in a twisted way, that things can be simple when they interact. It's somewhat of a relief that he can be simple, too.

Ryan sends him a few texts, but it’s nothing lengthy or life changing. The age gap between them had always made it more of a challenge for them to be close but now that they’re older, he’s thankful that he grew up doing his own thing. Not only that, but Ryan has a toddler and a wife to worry about, so Dex is glad that he’s learned to never take any distance personally. Either way, when he talks to Ryan on his mom’s phone calls, the conversations are pleasant and it’s nice to catch up.  

 

Near the end of the month, he gets an email from Bitty with a round-trip ticket to Providence for the Fourth of July. The joy and excitement are able to last for a nice stretch of time until he checks the group chat, and realizes he’s going to have to face Nursey.

Despite Nursey’s suggestion for Dex to open up over the summer, he hadn’t made the effort, still too uncertain. Ultimately, he’d taken a long look around at the mess of repression and self-loathing that still remained, and wanted to tidy up a bit more on his own before inviting Nursey into it. Nursey had sent him a photo or two and he’d responded to them quickly, and with enthusiasm. Even though it hasn't been in-depth, he can only hope that their correspondence has been sufficient.

 

Thrilled at the fact that he’s going to be seeing his friends again, Dex welcomes July with open arms. He leaves on the third and Bitty picks him up at the train station, talking his ear off about what’s been going on the whole ride back to the apartment. Typically, Bitty has quite the spread planned out for the Fourth of July party, and Dex is eager to get back in the kitchen.

Most of the Samwell Men’s Hockey team, past and present, is at Jack and Bitty’s apartment when he arrives. He’s missed Shitty so much he even enjoys his rant about why the Fourth of July is terrible, and listens with an engaged, incredulous ear at the antics Holster had gotten himself into in the past week. As he laughs with his friends, he marvels at how the magic of the Haus can be picked back up no matter where they are.

 

Derek, of course, looks even better than the last time Dex saw him. Gorgeous, longhaired and sun-kissed, he regales their friends with stories from New York and watching him is a slow, meticulous torture. After exchanging friendly, courteous greetings, Dex notes that they start to dance around each other in a subdued and indirect way. Since the party itself is the next day at Tater’s house, Bitty needs help figuring out the logistics of it all, and Dex is only too happy to take breaks from the waltz and lend a hand.

With wise anticipation for the following day’s drinking, they all have a relatively dry and quiet night in, by their standards. In the late morning, they all pile into a couple of cars to drive down to Tater’s house on the water.

It’s a beautiful property; even though it’s not his particular style, Dex can appreciate the clean elegance of a big white house. The lofty ceilings and sizable windows allow for pleasing, rosy streams of sunlight to make the space feel open and bright. The furniture is simple and unimposing, but comfortable. Tater, surely excited for his party, set up the living room, the den, and the game room for people to sleep over.

 

The plan is to remain a mild, manageable level of buzzed the entire day. He follows it successfully as he flits back and forth in and out of the house, helping out with the baking, doing a bit of grilling, and generally milling around. The weather stays perfect well into the evening, and everyone goes down to the water to wait for the fireworks to start.

Dex lingers in the kitchen, picking up a bit before he goes outside. Almost compulsively, he wipes down the counter and tidies the table, wanting to bring at least the semblance of order to a small moment of a messy day. Just as he’s about to step outside, Nursey steps in.

 

“Hey,” Nursey says, leaning against the patio door.

 

“Hey,” Dex responds.

 

“Just, wanted to make a quick trip to the bathroom before the fireworks start.”

 

“Right,” Dex nods. “Definitely don’t…want to miss those.”

 

Almost as if a lock clicks open between them, they chuckle simultaneously at how stilted and unnatural the exchange is. A bit more comfortable now, Nursey lobs the first question. “How was the day for you?”

 

“You know, busy,” Dex answers. “I was helping out here and there.”

 

“Right, yeah. I saw you doing your thing on the grill.”

 

“Well, Tater had enough lighter fluid to burn us all to a crisp, so I’m mostly just glad I got there on time.”

 

Nursey nods with a slow-spreading grin, but as he stutters out his words, the smile starts to fade. “I, uh…Actually, I- Earlier, um.”

 

He digs a hand into his curls and scratches his scalp as he speaks, clearly agitated now. “Sorry, I just. I keep…wanting to tell you things, but there are just…so many opportunities to say the wrong thing, you know? Or at least, like…the wrong thing for right now.”

 

“Exactly,” Dex agrees, nodding intensely. “I know exactly what you mean.”

 

Silent moments go by as they lock eyes, finding themselves teetering in uncertainty once more.

 

“Well, I should…get to the bathroom, before the fireworks start.”

 

“Right, the fireworks,” Dex repeats, idiotically. “Well, I’ll see you out there.”

 

“See you,” Nursey says, with a half-grin, and Dex wonders if he’s imagining its wistfulness.

 

After Nursey turns the corner into the living room, Dex ventures down to the beach. With a sweeping look around, he surveys his surroundings; glints from the sparklers that people are holding cartwheel into the air, partially cloaked by the smoke that lingers from the day’s grilling. The waves brush up on the shore as though a hand is bringing them forward, clasping them, then sweeping them back into the ocean. In the distance, and all around, the tawny, velvety sands that carpet the shore seem to ramble, and amble on forever. It’s the kind of night that envelops you in its cozy, hazy brilliance, thaws you to your bones and warms you from the inside out.

After a few minutes go by, he notices Nursey return from the house, and it’s just as the fireworks begin. Dex blinks up at them, watches for a beat, and looks straight back at Nursey.

He has enough self-awareness to realize that the timing and delivery of his epiphany couldn’t be more clichéd, but he takes it nonetheless. Tipsy, smiling, and enjoying the fireworks, Nursey stands a few dozen feet away from him, and Dex wonders how he let so much distance develop and thrive.

Struck by the longing, he realizes all he wants to do is watch the fireworks next to Nursey with an arm around his waist, or his head on Dex’s shoulder, or with their hands entwined. An unforgiving lurch back down to reality reminds him that even if they had been together, he wouldn’t have done any of those things anyway. 

With a frustrated, pleading desperation, he asks himself what was stopping him. He concedes to himself that the outside world is another story but things are different at the Haus, and at Samwell, and here on the beach. It dawns on Dex how many times he could have had and done and been what he wanted, if only he’d been able to get out of his own way.

Overwhelmed by the strong and difficult realizations, he only manages to watch another minute of fireworks before heading back into the house, and lying down on his designated couch. The day’s activities tired him out anyway, and he knocks out with no difficulty. 

The next morning, he wakes up fairly pleasantly, with only a faint trace of a hangover. On the coffee table next to him lay Bitty’s car keys, set on top of a folded up note.    

 

**_Dex,_ **

****

**_I’m so sorry I completely forgot me and Jack had to get an early start this morning to have brunch with George and her husband! They picked us up but I left the car with you so you can get back to the apartment._ **

****

**_See you later,_ **

****

**_Bitty_ **

 

As he puts the keys in his pocket, he’s a little miffed about being ditched, but he appreciates that Bitty was considerate enough not to leave him stranded. 

The house is quiet, and Dex seems to be the only one awake. He goes down to the kitchen and puts a pot of coffee on, helping himself to a mug and leaning on the counter as he waits for it to brew. To his surprise, Nursey walks in fully dressed, with a bag slung over his shoulder.

 

“Hey,” he greets, putting his hat on. “Have you seen Bitty?”

 

“No, he left this morning with Jack.”

 

“Dang, really?”

 

“Yeah, what’s up?”

 

“My train leaves kind of soon and Bitty was supposed to take me to the station…I guess he forgot.”

 

“I guess,” Dex agrees, even though he’s never been more certain that Bitty did  _not_  forget, and that this was a scheme he concocted to get them in a car together. “Well, he left me the car keys, so…I can take you.”

 

“It’s chill,” Nursey shrugs. “I can just get an Uber.”

 

“There’s no reason to spend that money, Nurse. I have no problem taking you.”

 

“Sick,” he agrees. "Thanks.”

 

They exchange a few quiet words as they head to the car but the drive occurs in silence, save for the radio playing faintly in the background. Blessedly, it’s not that long of a drive, but it’s enough time for him to go over yesterday, and the weeks before, and the past few months. All of the things he wants to say roll and stack on top of each other, making it difficult for him to figure out where to start. As he pulls into the station and finds a parking spot, he resigns himself to the fact that he’s out of time.

 

“Well,” Nursey announces, “Thanks for the ride.”

 

“No problem.”

 

After a nod and a wave, Nursey opens his door. The moment he walks out of the car, Dex can sense newfound purpose burgeoning within him, unfolding and ready to spring forward. He yanks at the handle, jumps out and catches up.

 

“Nursey,” Dex calls. “Nursey, wait.”

 

He turns around and does, standing perfectly still.

 

“I’m sorry,” Dex rushes out, and Nursey blinks in surprise. “We should have never been a secret, and…I wish I could go back and change that. You… deserved better than what I put you through.”

 

Nursey looks down as he wrings his hands, voice small when he speaks. “Thanks for saying that.”

 

“I want us to start again,” he urges, taking a step forward. “I’m not ready right now to come out to the team or to my family, but…I’m getting there. And, there's still some work I have to do on myself, but I’m gonna do it, and I want us to come back. And this time, it’s gonna be the way it was supposed to be. If you want that.”

 

Nursey shakes his head with joyous, breathless incredulity. “That’s exactly what I want.”

 

The excitement surges, but Dex tries to reel it in and get realistic. “I don’t expect you to, like…wait for me-”

 

“I will.”

 

“Well…obviously, if your feelings change-”

 

“They won’t.”

 

The last bit of Dex’s self-control dissolves into the air and in an instant, Nursey’s back in his arms, exactly where he belongs. They're in the middle of the parking lot, but the kiss is excessive and well over the top because for the first time, Dex doesn’t have to hold anything back.

Willingly, he gets swept into the unbridled brightness of a new beginning, moving to kiss Nursey once more after they break apart. They catch their breath, invigorated now, as Nursey takes his hand. “Talk to you soon, Poindexter.” 

Dex grins as he laces their fingers together, opens the gate and lets the joy run rampant. “Talk to you soon, Nurse.”

He gets a last kiss, then watches Nursey go into the station. After driving back to the apartment, he gets his things together, gets on his train back home, and starts practicing the words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BUT I'M READY TO FIX IT IF YOU READY BABY SO, SOOO, SO....SO GIVE ME ALL OF YOUUUU IN EXCHAAAANGE, FOR ME.....JUST GIVE ME ALL OF YOUUUU IN EXCHAAAANGE, FOR MEEE.....


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS THIS CHAPTER IS UUUUUMMM! EMOTIONAL AND SAPPY! ALSO A REMINDER BASED ON MY LAST LIKE WEEK AND A HALF IF YOU HAVE AN ANTI-DEPRESSANT TO TAKE YOU NEED TO LEARN FROM MY DUMBASS MISTAKES AND REMEMBER TO TAKE THEM. SERIOUSLY. LIKE RIGHT NOW. OKIE DOKE, NOW THAT THAT'S DONE HERE WE GO.

At the end of the last week of August, Dex returns to the Haus. He looks around, noting that even though nothing has changed over the summer, there’s a stark, distinct difference that exists. As he stands in the living room, he glances around once more, expectant, but unsure of what he’s waiting for. A few minutes go by before it hits him.

Instinctively, he'd checked to hear the sounds of Bitty puttering away in the kitchen to pop music, and for the smells of cinnamon and butter and sugar floating through the air. With an acute, piercing sadness, he realizes he doesn’t know when he’ll hear or smell either again.

He trudges up the stairs. Remembering that Samwell Men’s Hockey alumni make frequent visits, he’s a bit heartened as he goes up, glad that the Haus is at least clean since none of them were there over the summer.

When he walks back into the room, he’s pleased to see that Nursey is already there, hanging out and scrolling on his laptop. Even though it hasn’t been that long since they’ve spoken, excitement rushes forth at seeing him again, urging him to catch up on the couple of weeks since their last phone call. “Hey, Nurse.”

 

With a small wave and a big grin, Nursey returns his greeting. “Sup, Poindexter?”

 

“Not much. How’s it going?”

 

“Good, man. I’m chillin’.”

 

“How were these last few weeks in New York?”

 

“Swawes,” Nursey responds, taking his laptop off his lap as he sits up on his bed. “The only thing is I realized yesterday that I think Andover and Samwell made me soft, ’cause I didn’t want to admit it but…now when I see rats on the train, I really am actually scared, _forreal_ forreal.”

 

“Derek,” he scolds, sighing as he sets his things down, “Fear is a normal response to the sight of a disease-carrying rodent. The only reason you think otherwise is because New York is a squalid, congested hellscape.”

 

“I know, but…it’s _my_ squalid and congested hellscape, you know? What can I say, Poindexter? There’s just no place like home.”

 

They laugh in tandem and he’s so glad to talk to Nursey again, he can feel the joy float up from within him as he speaks. “I saw you guys had a heat wave the other day.”

 

“Yo,” Nursey intones, gravely, “New York has been _dumb_ hot lately. That weather was oppressive, t-b-h.”

 

“I feel like that’s a misuse of the word ‘oppressive’.”

 

The eyebrows shoot up lightning fast, and Dex quickly anticipates what’s in store for him. “Oh? Do you feel like I’m using the word ‘oppressive’ incorrectly, White man? Is that how you feel?”

 

“Okay,” Dex concedes, smiling despite himself. “I walked into that.”

 

“You sure did, bro.” Nursey confirms, as they both chuckle. “So, how was it saying goodbye to your crustacean cousins?”

 

“Once more, the lobsters are not my crustacean cousins, but the fishing wrapped up fine.”

 

Dex relays more stories from his long-awaited end of summer exodus of tourists, then Nursey tells him more about the happenings of New York City; incidents and accidents that occurred on his mom’s sets and at the record label’s Manhattan office, as well as less glamorous occurrences, like watching a pigeon steal his MetroCard and fly off with it lodged firmly in its beak.

Derek asks him what else has been going on with him and Dex takes a deep breath. He prepares himself, then jumps right in.

 

“Well, you know, nothing…too out of the ordinary except for…well…I told my mom.”

 

“Holy shit,” Nursey exclaims. “Yo, did you _really_ just let me go on and on about a hot dog when you had _that_ to share?”

 

Dex has enough self-awareness to be able to chuckle at the ludicrousness. “I…guess I did, yeah.”

 

“Well,” Nursey continues, sitting up ramrod straight. “What’d she say?”

 

“She said…I’m her son, and she loves me. It…surprisingly went really well.”

 

“That’s _so_ sick,” Nursey gushes, and Dex is swaddled by the clear, sheer awe in his face. “You’re really out here, fucking doing it. I’m so proud of you.”

 

 _It’s because of you,_ he thinks. _You’re the reason why I’ve been challenging myself. You’re the reason why I’m working to feel at ease in my own skin. You’re the reason why hope doesn’t terrify me anymore._

 

“Thanks, Nurse,” he answers instead, looking down at his hands, as the thoughts are packed away for another time.

 

Their chat comes to a peaceful, natural end. As he makes eye contact with Nursey again, he realizes that neither of them knows what to say to appropriately move forward. If they were still just friends, the chat would continue to another subject or they would each go on to do separate things, but Dex wants to set the right tone for the year. Above all, he needs to get rid of every trace of hesitance in Nursey’s demeanor.

With emphatic, nearly zealous purpose, he moves toward him. He sits, brings a hand to Nursey’s face and leans in to kiss him, all in one swift, fluid motion. Nursey meets him, palpably matching his eagerness and longing. Dreamily pleased, they kiss again and again, languorously enjoying each other again.

Nursey is very suddenly pinned underneath him and even though they’re rolling back into things, there are still a lot of words unspoken. Just as he thinks to himself that he’d rather keep things at a low simmer, Nursey fortuitously remembers a previously held appointment.

 

“Oh shit,” he exclaims, interrupting their make-out session. “What time is it?”

 

Dex looks at his watch to answer him, but Nursey’s already got his phone out. “Dang, I just got _mad_ carried away but I have this editors’ meeting thing for the magazine I really have to go to.”

 

“Okay,” Dex responds, amicably, understanding that his responsibilities have increased now that he’s editor-in-chief. He lets him get up and since Nursey is already dressed, there’s only a quick pat-down of his pockets before he’s at the door.

 

“Alright, see you later,” Nursey says, as he checks one last time for his keys.

 

“See you later,” Dex answers, as the next words are brazenly, impulsively propelled forward. “Love you.”

 

The hustle and bustle of the previous moments come to a halt for a long, heavy moment, as the words Dex spoke hang between them. “Shit, sorry, that was- That was too much, I’m-”

 

“It’s okay,” Nursey offers, graciously bringing an end to his misery. “I love you, too.”

 

Swiftly, he moves back toward Dex and gives him a goodbye kiss before he speaks, voice low and newly sultry. “Can’t wait to pick up where we left off.”

 

Dex sighs out the tension as contentment flows, then settles into his bones. “Me too.”

 

“Bye, Poindexter,” Nursey says, kissing him again with the joy and freedom one has when spending something unlimited.

 

“Bye, Nurse,” Dex answers, as he watches him go out the door.

 

\---

 

The first few days of his senior year unfold with energetic, near frenetic fervor. Chowder, who had been kept abreast of the developing situation over the summer, is fully updated, and Nursey seems content with where they are. Even so, Dex wants to press forward with clear and direct communication. So, with little fanfare, he announces that he and Nursey are dating one morning during Team Breakfast.

After looking around at the surprised faces of his teammates, he throws a dollar on the table for the sin bin, kisses Nursey goodbye, and heads to class. The newness of the situation wears down after a day or two and things keep moving along normally, for the most part.

As it turns out, being honest with their teammates is the easiest thing about being back together. What he finds is that the first steps of trusting each other again are shaky; he still has a lot of baggage to work through, and it manifests itself in unpredictable, unexpected ways. 

On the second Saturday of September, everything is perfect; Bitty arrives in the late morning for a visit and their first kegster of the semester happens that night. The amount of fun Dex has reaches strong, soaring heights, but all of it caves down on Sunday morning.

He wakes up from the dream he had unsettled, uneasy and angry. Sitting up, he cracks his neck as his chest’s constriction continues, inhaling and exhaling slowly, but with force in order to get ahold of the gasping. Nursey, the most enthusiastic yet lightest sleeper he knows, stirs due to the movement. 

 

He rubs his eyes and blinks them open as he turns towards Dex, voice raspy. “Sup, Poindexter?”

 

“I, uh…I…had a bad dream, I guess.”

 

“What happened,” Nursey implores, quietly, but alertly.

 

“It’s…such a random thing to remember, but we were…It was years ago, when I was a kid. My aunt and uncle were visiting and we were at a diner getting breakfast, and our waiter was…Well, every time he left the table, my uncle would make jokes about how… _fruity_ , and _flamboyant_ he was. And…everyone was, enjoying themselves and laughing along with him, and…And, I just.”

 

Nursey takes his hand and squeezes. “That’s fucked up.”

 

Dex shakes his head, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t even know why I’m- It was a long time ago, I was a kid, and it’s not like-”

 

“It’s still shitty,” Nursey cuts off, steadfastly, but not unkindly. “Things like that hurt.”

 

Dex gives a curt, quiet nod, moved to silence as the succinct accuracy of Nursey’s words transform the space. Soon, their room is a protective bubble, and within him, he can feel something that was broken into pieces put itself back together, bound and fastened by Nursey’s care and validation. “Yeah.”

 

Encouraged by the softness in Nursey’s gaze and the firmness in his grasp, Dex finds the nerve to speak out the rest of the dreadfulness. “And then, I…I woke up just feeling…wrong. Like, thinking about you and wanting you and being with you is…wrong. Even though I know better now… I still think that sometimes.”

 

Nursey brings a hand to his face and Dex bites his lip, overwhelmed. “It’s not your fault that you feel that way. There’s a lot of internalized bullshit that’s hard to manage and get rid of.”

 

He nods again, acknowledging and acquiescing. “Yeah, there is.”

 

“But you’re doing so well. The fact that you can recognize the shitty feelings and talk about them is...remarkable. Dex from six months ago would have never been able to do that.”

 

Taking Nursey’s words under consideration, he glances back at the recent past, realizing how much distance there is now between him and the stinging, stifled secrecy.

 

“That’s true,” he agrees, as gratitude starts to flood him. “I _have_ come a long way, and I…probably wouldn’t be able to…face things if you hadn’t pushed me, so…thank you.”

 

A warm, contented grin grows as Nursey traces his freckles. “You’re welcome, Poindexter.”

 

By now, the tension has seeped out and flowed away, but Dex’s heart still beats hard as Nursey snuggles into him, jolted this time by love and bewildered by its unrivalled ability.

 

“I really am _mad_ impressed by the strides you’ve made,” Nursey continues, playful now. “As far as gingers go, you really are actually pretty dope.”

 

“You,” Dex starts, with a chuckle, “Know that’s not a compliment.”

 

Nursey joins him in laughter then kisses him, as the joy crisply crackles between them. After lazing around and indulging in each other for a bit more, they leave their bed, start their day, and head to Annie’s.

 

 

 

\---

 

All around the room, English Literature and Language students are milling about, chatting and mingling. The space is plainly decorated but it’s neat, and pleasant. Peppered in between the people are small round tables with hors d’oeuvres, drinks, and copies of the previous year’s literary magazine. While it’s odd for him to sip wine on a Saturday afternoon, he supposes the occasion warrants it. One by one, he watches Nursey’s peers and professors congratulate him on being named editor-in-chief, and Dex watches them do so with proud, spirited satisfaction. Nursey is handsome as ever, dressed in an olive-green sweater that suits him perfectly.

Even when there are breaks from the praise, neither of them can stop grinning, loose from the drinks and buzzing off each other. They find a corner to chat in, and Dex leans closer than he has to in order to hear what Nursey's saying. The wine is making him a bit handsy but Nursey doesn’t seem to mind, grazing his stubble along Dex’s neck as he reciprocates the moves.

Despite the hum of the room, Dex can hear Nursey’s name mentioned in a conversation nearby, and can’t help but pay attention. The first statement is lost, but he hones in just in time.

 

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know, I feel like…I mean he’s obviously not a _bad_ choice for editor-in-chief but…I don’t know, I don’t want to be an asshole but I feel like they gave it to him as more of a diversity thing, you know?”

 

Dex turns his head to look in the direction of wherever the voice came from, but whoever’s speaking has his back to him. When he looks back at Nursey, he can tell from Nursey’s face that he’s not the only one who heard the comment.

 

Furious now, Dex glances around where they’re standing and listens closely. Once he’s located the guy, he sets his wine glass down on a nearby table and cracks his neck. “I’ll be right back.”

 

“No-no-no, no, no,” Nursey rushes, grabbing his elbow. “Nope. You need to chill.”

 

“But that’s not true,” Dex argues. “He can’t just say something like that.”

 

“I understand that,” Nursey concedes, “But I need you to not beat someone’s ass at this luncheon right now.”

 

“I’m just gonna talk to him.”

 

“Really,” Nursey implores, skeptical. “Because I know your enforcer face when I see it.”

 

Dex holds his hands up. “I really am only going to say something.”

 

“I would rather you didn’t.”

 

He crosses his arms, clenches his jaw and blinks hard. “Fine.”

 

Smiling again, Nursey lightly wraps an arm around Dex’s torso, and Dex is already beginning to feel assuaged. “I just want you to know I see the work you’re putting in to keep from popping off right now and I appreciate you.”

 

He’s still aggravated, but his jaw becomes less stiff. “Thank you.”

 

“Also, just generally, how are you my biggest defender yet also my greatest adversary?”

 

“I’m not your greatest adversary,” Dex laughs.

 

“Baby…on the _highest_ key, you _absolutely_ are.”

 

He takes a moment to consider the statement and finds that there is an indisputable, but relatively small amount of truth. “It _is_ quite the combination, isn’t it?”

 

Nursey chuckles with him and just like that, the unpleasantness is gone and they’re back in their own cozy, tiny universe. As the party winds down, Dex lends a hand as Nursey and his fellow staff members clean up the space. When it’s over, they leave the literature building and step into a gorgeous Sunday evening; the walk over to the Chicken Coupe is more of a stroll, both of them taking their time to appreciate the technicolor reds, yellows and oranges of fall. They get to the restaurant and they're about to go in but Dex stops them, and vocalizes what’s been swinging around the back of his mind.

 

“Earlier, what that guy said, I hope that didn’t…You’ve been busting your ass at that magazine for the past three years and no one knows the ins and outs of it like you do. You deserve to be editor-in-chief and I hope what that guy said didn’t- I don’t know, make you doubt yourself or…ruin anything.”

 

“It didn’t,” Nursey says, softened. “Thank you.”

 

Nursey kisses him, and Dex half-grins as he holds the door open. Once they’re seated, Nursey starts catching him up on the articles he wants Dex to read and he pulls out his phone once they’ve ordered a small plate, speaking aloud as he revisits them.

 

“This one is a great read,” he says, as he forwards it to Dex. “It’s this really long and in-depth piece that goes through all these different economic and sociocultural effects that the Olympics have on host cities.”

 

“Oh boy,” Dex responds, picturing their debate. “I’m sure you already have arguments prepared for me.”

 

“Indeed I do,” Nursey returns, characteristically quick. “The discourse will undoubtedly be lit.”

 

When their garlic parmesan fries arrive, Nursey grabs a few with zeal and enthusiasm. But, after a few chews, his excitement pointedly dies down.

 

“Do you feel like these fries have decreased in quality since the last time we were here? I mean I’m not gonna ask for the manager about it, but I do feel like there’s been a decline.”

 

“Yes, I’m ready,” Dex announces, making a show of rubbing his hands together. “Go ahead, I can’t wait.”

 

Nursey knits his eyebrows together. “Can’t wait for what?”

 

“For you to start your New York foodie diatribe.”

 

“Yo, firstly,” Nursey starts, pointing a finger up. “I’m not a ‘New York foodie’ and secondly, I don’t go on diatribes.”

 

“So…neither of those things are true.”

 

Nursey uses a napkin, tosses it to the side and rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Poindexter.”

Now that he’s been called out, a silence slips between them as Nursey pretends as though he wasn’t going to do exactly what Dex predicted. Entertained, Dex counts down a few seconds in his head before he pushes. “Go on,” he smirks, downright tickled. “Tell me about the fries.”

Nursey crosses his arms and looks at him across the table, petulant. “The only thing I have to say is that in my opinion usually the garlic and salt are a little bit better balanced than they are now, but that’s all I have to say because as I previously stated, I don’t give speeches about the food I eat.”

Dex leans towards Nursey, setting an elbow on the table and perching his chin onto his hand, compelled and charmed as he listens to the rest of Nursey’s rant. To his credit, it’s shorter than Dex expected.

 

After they order their entrees, Nursey reaches his hand over as though he’s going to grab Dex’s across the table, but he stops himself a quarter of the way. He looks to the side for a fraction of a second, and Dex realizes that now that they’ve sobered up a bit, Nursey is self-conscious about being in public, a stubborn vestige from when it was all clandestine. Committed to draining every ounce of uncertainty, Dex stretches his arm forward with purpose.

He grabs Nursey's hand, laces their fingers together and brings his thumb back and forth across Nursey’s, soft and deliberately slow. In the middle of Samwell’s most popular restaurant, they look at each other like nothing else exists, and Dex is startled once again by the all-embracing flushed abundance of love. He can hardly bear it.

 

At some point, Nursey gets up to go to the bathroom, and Dex takes the opportunity to check his email. When he does, he sees a new message from his mother.

 

 

**_Billy,_ **

****

**_I went on Google and found an “LGBT-friendly” church in Portland. I went today and I just loved it. It is a bit of a drive but the pastor was so great and his sermon was so moving. During fellowship afterwards, I spoke to him. His daughter is a lesbian! She and her wife had the cutest baby. Such a beautiful family. Anyway, just thought I would tell you. And who knows, maybe when you’re back in town you’ll go to service with your Ma. :-)_**

**** ****

**_Love you to the moon and back,_ **

****

**_Mom_ **

 

 

“Wow,” Dex says aloud, and it’s perfectly timed. Nursey sits back down and looks up at him. “Wow, what?”

 

“Just this email my mom sent me.”

 

His eyes are focused, searching and concerned. “A good email?”

 

“Yeah,” Dex answers, as he hands the phone over.

 

As Nursey reads it, his tense apprehension is mollified. “I’m…about to fucking cry right now?”

 

“I know.”

 

“Tag yourself,” Nursey dictates, handing him back his phone. “I’m the exclamation point after lesbian.”

 

Dex snorts as he looks back down at the email. “I’m the quotes around LGBT-friendly.”

 

“That was so dope,” Nursey says, before taking a sip of his iced tea. “Word to Nancy.”

 

“I’ll make sure to pass that along.”

 

The rest of dinner glides onward in the same silken, comfortable way, save for a nagging set of what-ifs that peek out from the back of Dex’s mind and scurry forward. He elects to ignore them and does, during the walk back to the Haus, while they’re hanging out with their friends in the living room, and while they’re getting ready for bed.

Still too jumpy for sleep, he opens up his laptop and goes back to work on his app, finding contentment in ironing out some of the kinks. The app, like his thoughts, is not behaving the way he wants it to, but he tames the fury and keeps it quiet because it’s late at night. Dex cracks his knuckles and curses under his breath.

 

“Hey,” Nursey whispers, coming up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I was gonna go to sleep soon. Do you have a lot of work left to do?”

 

“Um, a little bit, but I don’t mind turning the light off.”

 

“If you don’t have that much left, you should go to sleep.”

 

“I’ll go to sleep when I’ve finished all of it, Nurse,” he barks, and it’s too harsh.

 

“Okay,” Nursey says, as he removes his hand, taken aback.

 

The silence is just as curt as Dex was and he knows he’s wrong, but the frustration is roiling too strongly for him to think reasonably. He wants Nursey to leave him alone so he can be saved from Dex’s temper, but he doesn’t. He takes a long moment to scrutinize Dex, puts his hand back where it was, and speaks softly. “Is something bothering you?”

 

With a huff, Dex closes his laptop and makes himself settle enough to form a response. The words have been grinding away at him for hours now, and he heaves a deep sigh as he brings them forward.

 

“Just this…email from my mom, was…great, obviously it was great, and it doesn’t even make sense to be upset, because it’s…obviously good that I told my mom, but eventually I have to tell my Dad, and…I can barely picture it.”

 

Nursey’s hand targets the knots as he massages his shoulder. “You don’t have to have it all figured out. You can take as long as you need to see what the best move is and you’re...allowed to keep it to yourself if coming out to him would be too stressful.”

 

“I don’t think I want that, but…at the same time I’m also…really not ready for his reaction.”

 

“I get that,” Nursey nods. “It’s terrifying.”

 

“Well,” Dex announces, as he slaps his hands down on his knees. “Nothing’s happening tonight so there’s no sense in thinking about it any longer. Plus, you’re right that we need to get to sleep,” he finishes.

 

Without thinking twice about it, he opens his drawer and reaches for the Neruda book, wanting a few poems to calm him down enough to rest.

 

Nursey tilts his head to read the spine. “Is that Love Poems?”

 

“Yeah,” Dex responds, as he clutches it in his hands. “I go back to it sometimes, when…when I need to, I guess.”  

 

Nursey gives him a warm, curious look, then goes back to their bed. He hops in and pats the space next to him. “Bring it here.”

 

Dex obliges. When he slips in next to him, Nursey takes the book and brings his other arm around to hold it as Dex lies down. He reads aloud, words half-spoken into the top of Dex’s head.

 

“The taste of your mouth and the color of your skin,” he starts, and Dex recalls that it’s one of Nursey’s favorites. Once more, he’s appreciative of Nursey’s gift for words; he silently marvels at the way Nursey can bring them off the page and into the space, effortlessly injecting life into them. To make matters better, and worse, his voice is intolerably soft.

 

After a few poems are read, Nursey closes the book and puts it on the nightstand before turning back towards Dex. “Are you ready to get to sleep?”

 

“Yeah,” he lies, in a rush. “Yeah, yeah, for sure. Sure, let’s turn out the light.”

 

Nursey sees right through him. “Poindexter.”

 

Despite his best efforts to hold the neurosis back, one of the worst-case scenarios he’s been ruminating tumbles out of his grasp and spills out into the air.

 

“It’s just that…Ryan might not be okay with it but even if he is, and my mom is fine with it now, if I tell my Dad and he reacts badly, he might…I don’t know, he might…not want me to come back to the house, and...want to change their minds and make them choose between us, and if they choose _him_ , then,” he continues, as the anxiety crests and implodes. “Then…then...”

 

Nursey pulls him closer into his chest as he trails off, and he lets the slow and steady up-and-down of Nursey’s breaths center him. They lay there for a minute or two as Dex lets out sigh after shaky sigh, anchored in Nursey’s solid, supple grasp.

 

“Poindexter,” Nursey starts, at a near-whisper. “No matter what happens with your family, you’ll always have the team, and you’ll _always_ have me.”

 

Dex is simultaneously shaken and settled by the certainty in Nursey’s voice, and his breath hitches as Nursey brings a hand to his face. “And, we’re gonna have a life that’s…incredible, and full of happiness, no matter what they choose. Whether they want to be a part of it or not. Okay?”

 

The thing about it is, Dex is too smart to believe he’ll actually be able to get what he wants. He’s too reasonable to believe that Nursey will actually be his for the rest of their lives. Dex is too pragmatic and cynical and realistic to believe in the bright, shining promise of the future, where what’s between them will be bigger and stronger and more resilient than anything that could hurt them. Nevertheless, he does anyway. “Okay.”

 

He revisits the earlier burst of anger with a critical eye, feeling humbled and graced by the sturdy benevolence of Nursey’s affection. “I’m sorry I snapped at you before.”

 

“I know,” Nursey says, kissing his forehead as his hand goes up and down Dex’s back. “Do you want another poem?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay,” Derek agrees, as he picks the book back up and opens it where they left off. “Do you remember, my love, our first steps on the island?”

 

Within the hour, Dex falls asleep with his arm draped across Nursey and his head on Nursey’s chest, safe and sound.

 

\---

 

It’s a busy day at the record store. The activity of the store makes it noticeably warmer than the cool, temperate sixty degreed afternoon they’d just promenaded through. Mr. Nurse’s birthday is at the beginning of November, so Nursey has a couple of weeks to find his dad a decent gift. For Dex, a sensible pair of socks would do the trick but as he's recently found out, Derek's process is much more involved.

Once they check their coats, Nursey flies off to flit around different sections and start his strict, methodical crate digging. Dex trails behind him like a puppy, pleased to absorb all of Nursey’s jabbering about music.

 

“I would get this one but I think he has it already,” Nursey says, shaking his head as he picks up a jazz record. “Though that does remind me…”

 

As he trails off, he moves toward the next section and continues the search in the same measured, thoughtful way, mumbling comments and questions half to himself, half to the store. After a solid amount of time has been spent on the quest, Nursey dejectedly shakes his head as he looks around.

 

“I’m gonna try the used records one more time,” he says, surely to acknowledge that Dex has been following him around for a while. Little does Nursey know, Dex could continue on the way they’ve been for the rest of the evening, with no complaint.

 

“Ohhhh snap,” Nursey says aloud, pulling a 45 out of the crate. “They got the bootlegs on vinyl? Yo, my dad’s gonna be _sick to his stomach._ ”

 

Confused, Dex furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean? Won’t he be happy?”

 

“Oh yeah, for sure. He’ll just be _wild_ jealous I found this record first.”

 

“Ah,” Dex responds, remembering again the competitive dynamic inhabited by the music-obsessed father and son. “I see.”

 

Once Nursey has bought the record, Dex notices that the photo booth is still there at the back of the store, and that there’s no line. He brings it up and Nursey agrees, following him and sliding in after him.

Neither of them are ever carrying cash, but by some miracle, the two scrape up enough for the booth. In the first one, Dex gives what Nursey describes as his ‘usual neutral scowl’, but in the second one, Dex is able to chuckle at himself for the brazen cheesiness of the situation. Just in time for the third one, they look at each other and Nursey’s gaze holds the same steadfast, forthright adoration as it did the first time. For the fourth photo, they meet in the middle, and kiss as the shutter snaps.

 

Nursey snorts when the photos print out, shaking his head as he speaks. “If any of our teammates ever get a hold of these, we will _never_ stop being chirped.”

 

“Yeah, these are going in a safe of some sort,” Dex agrees, as he looks at them. “A vault, if possible.”

 

They get their jackets back from the register and walk out into the evening, gearing themselves up for the kegster planned for the night. They’ve been playing really well so everyone is in good spirits, and the party is set to be a messy, ridiculous good time. 

Characteristically, the eager and animated Waffles (Louis and Hops, in particular) have already begun to set up for the party when they get back from Boston. Despite still being reticent towards Louis, he can appreciate the effort and thought he puts forth, even if he’s only seen it go towards hockey and kegsters so far. The fact that Nursey and Louis are two peas in a pod is a mixed bag; it’s good that Nursey gets along with him so well, but with Louis’ presence, Nursey Patrol has gone from barely manageable to nearly impossible.

Things go from zero to sixty in what seems like a matter of minutes, and the Haus is packed before he knows it. Keeping a running log of Nursey’s whereabouts is doable at first, but of course, only becomes more difficult as the alcohol continues to flow.

With a stroke of luck, Dex finds him again upstairs. He’s bopping along to the music and moving through the people in the hallway, ready to trip down the stairs before Dex catches him.

 

“Der,” Dex calls, nearly exhausted from the chase.

 

“Hey babe,” Nursey grins, slurred and ecstatic as he wraps his arms around Dex. “I missed you.”

 

He softens up the slightest bit but has to remember he’s the police, and that he can’t enjoy any part of wrangling his drunk, accident-prone boyfriend. “Are you going back downstairs to dance?”

 

“Chyeah,” Nursey responds.

 

“You’re not gonna get on a table again, are you?”

 

“Of course I am, William. I’m _litty_ ,” Nursey declares, as he turns to traipse to his death.

 

Dex grabs his hand at the last second and gets a bit ahead of him to lead him down the stairs safely. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

 

“Baby, you worry too much,” Nursey yammers, as they continue downward. “I got it on lock.”

 

Of course, just as he says that, he trips on the second to last step of the stairs and Dex has to rush to prevent him from falling and busting his mouth. After the mini-incident, they stand up against the wall, face to face. Dex lets his body language do the talking.

 

“Okay,” Nursey concedes, “That little moment I just had was an outlier but the general trend is that I’m Gucci.”

 

Shaking his head with a deep, long-suffering sigh, he takes Nursey’s hand again. “Come on,” he says, guiding them back to where their friends are.

 

“If you wanted to hold my hand and be close to me, you could have just said so,” Nursey yells, over the music. “You don’t have to use Nursey Patrol as an excuse.”

 

Dex cups his hand over his mouth and stops them to make sure Nursey can hear him. “I regret not letting you just fall down the stairs.”

 

Nursey laughs a full-throated, all-encompassing laugh at that before pushing him against a wall near the kitchen, and kissing him full on the mouth. “I love you,” he says, and Dex still can’t believe how smoothly and suddenly nothing else matters. Their eyes meet and in his altered, more sensitive state, he can feel something break and cascade from his core, dissolving and healing everything in its path. 

 

“I love you, too,” he answers, the best kind of dismantled.

 

“That was a really gay and beautiful moment we just had,” Nursey says, as a surprised bark of laughter comes from Dex. “But I’m about to end it when I team up with Louis and destroy you at beer pong.”

 

“If I get Bully, you guys have _no_ chance.”

 

“Babe, I really just feel like you should prepare yourself for the ass-whooping you’re about to receive.”

 

“Actually _babe_ ,” Dex returns, equally saccharine and twice as facetious, “I feel like _you_ should prepare yourself for when you have to tuck all that shit-talking in and congratulate us.”

 

“Aight, homie,” Nursey says, before another pop kiss. “We’ll see.”

 

As Nursey turns around, Dex remembers an important, integral part of Nursey Patrol. “Wait,” he exclaims, as he grabs Nursey’s arm. “You need to drink some water.”

 

“I get that, but that’s the complete opposite of the wave I’m on right now.”

 

“Just a few sips,” Dex negotiates, having realized by now that the biggest part of the battle is just getting the water in Nursey’s hand.

 

“Fine,” Nursey relents, suddenly cranky because Dex wants him to stay hydrated.

 

Although the way to the kitchen is shorter than where they started, Nursey is popular and easily distracted. As he makes his way through the crowd, various members of the Samwell student body stop him to get his attention, and it’s difficult to keep him on track. Thus, even though Dex consistently and patiently brings him back on the path, it takes them a frustratingly long time to travel an objectively small and insignificant distance. Still, he can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday night.

 

“Okay,” Nursey starts, after he drinks his water, “I’m gonna keep it one hundy, I _did_ need that water just now.”

 

“I know, Nurse,” Dex responds, shaking his head once again at the complete and utter nuisance he’s dating.

 

Dex can vaguely remember that they wanted to play beer pong, but they have to push that back once they’re in the kitchen, sidetracked once more by the different conversations they’ve each been pulled into by their peers. Despite his best efforts, Dex notices at some point that he no longer has a visual of Nursey, but while he’s talking to someone from his Advanced Algorithms class, Nursey stumbles back to his side, seemingly out of nowhere.

 

“Hey,” he smiles, looking at the two of them.

 

“Hey,” Dex responds, gesturing towards Nursey as he looks back at his classmate. “Brendan, this is my boyfriend, Derek.”

 

“Good to meet you, man,” Brendan says, as he shakes his hand.

 

“Nice to meet you, too.”

 

They chat, and joke, and laugh, and enjoy themselves. By far, it’s the lightest Dex has ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a loooot of stuff, continuing on with my music themes 
> 
> 1) From Time is a Prime Emotional Drake song, with the lyric "I love me enough for the both of us", and I imagined Nursey listening to that and kind of flipping it like towards Dex, and having it end up realizing that he couldn't love Dex enough for the both of them the way things were at the beginning. Then I thought about that evolving outwards, in response to possible rejection from his dad or his dad influencing the rest of Dex's family, and it turning into like...if your Dad doesn't want to love you, I'll love you enough for the both of us. 
> 
> 2) A little head canon I like to imagine is Dex listening to Beyonce songs because he has to as Bitty bakes, and secretly being affected by some of the Beyonce songs. 
> 
> First thing to picture with me is a scene like the last one, where they're at a kegster and Dex is on Nursey patrol looking for him all through the Haus, and when he stumbles into him they kiss and it's sloppy, and he's thrilled and ecstatic to find him again because IN THE DARKEST NIGHT, OH...I SEARCH THROUGH THE CROOOOWD, YOUR FACE IS ALL THAT I SEE, I'LL GIVE YOU EVERYTHING, BABY LOVE ME LIGHTS OUUUUT. 
> 
> Finally, 1+1 comes on and Dex is quietly AFFECTED as the song plays and he thinks about Nursey and Nursey's smile  
> and how safe and okay Nursey makes him feel, so Dex's part of the title is darling yoouuu, goottt, enouuughh, forrr, the both of uuussss. 
> 
>  
> 
> Well that's it for this. I hope I made you cry big fat gay tears. Love the comments, love you all, see you next time.


End file.
